Customs
by melloncollie00
Summary: In my dreams, I make love to you all day long. BL.


**Disclaimer:**It's a shame that I neither own One Tree Hill nor the novel, "Atonement"

**Summary:**In my dreams, I make love to you all day long. BL.

**Author's Note:**This is a oneshot influenced by Ian McEwan's fabulous novel, "Atonement" (now a top-rated movie) and it is basically written in my accounting class in which I (of my own accord) stopped worrying about debits and credits and all that shit and decided to do whatever my muse instructed me to.

Reviews will be highly appreciated.

Customs 

It was strange how the things once seemed far and deep for him turned out to be closer than expected. Like writing, for instance, from the day he learned reading and came home with a bright certificate, with his first rank in Tree Hill Primary School Spelling Contest, Lucas Scott couldn't think of a day without being led by his thoughts slowly written into sheets of paper or fingers pressing on keyboards, revealing what he considered as amusing, personal fiction.

His mind, stuffed with quotes and inspirations and character analysis and fictional details never ever thought of literary blankness, even for once, even when he had been the most successful basketball player in Tree Hill or when partying all night long seemed more appealing than staying home with Steinbeck.

Yet, he was now, aged 23, suffering from what everyone diagnosed as writer's block. For approximately six months, Lucas couldn't write anything, not a single word, even a shopping list.

The estrangement, the sudden realization of growth had begun with the funeral of his muse.

Then came the others, everything that was related to aging and maturity had explored their lives. Jobs were taken, budgets were tried to be adjusted, kids were conceived.

Marriage ceremonies took place.

His best friend, Haley James (now a Scott), had eaten that forbidden fruit first, declaring her eternal commitment to his step-brother Nathan. After graduation, though, Lucas and his high-school sweetheart Peyton Sawyer had decided to place wedding rings on fingers too, due to the want of having an actual connection that won't be ripped off because of the long distance they were going to experience.

And now, Brooke Davis had sent an invitation to all.

"I don't think it will be proper for us to attend". Peyton had said, teasing the envelope curiously but cautiously as if it was porcelain having a tendency to get broken- strangely symbolizing the triangular-relationship they once had. Years ago, when they were attending Tree Hill High, when all the requirements of maturity and adulthood didn't use to prepare such perils, Lucas had opened a door not only leading to shooting hoops and impressing the scouts; but also a love maze- two different paths of two different girls- the brooding cheerleader Peyton Sawyer and the school-slut Brooke Davis.

Lucas, of course, as an inexperienced 17-year old had had his indecisions, and from one cheery- slut to another brooder, and then to the cheery again, he had finally found himself cuddling in the arms of the curly blonde, whereas the brunette had confessed that she, somewhere along time, had stopped missing him. The vision, despite long years and longer adventures was still crystal clear in his eyes, his mind was still unable to determine what hurt most: standing speechless there, finding no words crossing his fictional mind, or seeing how Brooke and he got immeasurably apart in that small time being.

The lack of yearning had gradually grown since then, he and Peyton had explored each other while Brooke formed a whole other life not in the need of the two blonds once used to make up a huge part of her puzzle. It was rather a small gesture in the school hall that kept them together or a simple smile at a party, or sometimes a news Haley gave- but nothing more. No sharing secrets, no crying together, no laughing to an old joke- just the requirements of customs.

Lucas had secretly wished to get to know her more when their time in Tree Hill High ended, after all the boundaries of past-events were to be erased by the new actions in life; yet Brooke had chosen to ignore those as if never existed and rarely kept in touch. It was only Haley and Mouth who received regular e-mails from the new fashion queen, yet sometimes Lucas and Peyton found some dull Hallmark-cards sent from Los Angeles to congratulate each birthday, and as always, nothing more. Just the requirements of customs.

"We will buy something from that list and send it to her with proper package." Peyton had said, putting the envelope in a further place where her hands lay still, just like she chose not to be involved in their lives and kept a distance. "If we can afford one."

"I don't know Pay" Lucas had decided to reveal how he felt about the lack of Brooke in his world. "Maybe we should go there and..."

"Just like she attended ours, right?" Peyton had immediately snapped accusingly, leaving him in the kitchen with a mug of chilling coffee, complicated thoughts of Brooke and an envelope lying strangely close to Lucas's hands.

It was a long time since he had bent down on his knees and proposed to Peyton, presenting the ring he had previously bought with Nathan, yet at times like these, when she still seemed not to get over the past, when her heartbreaks and disappointments were closer than expected, Lucas couldn't help but wonder why he had walked down the hall to say yes to a new form of life- and why there hadn't been any brunette to be a maid, or even a simple guest, watching them with envy, trying to figure out when she would be the lead-actress in her own chick-flick of life with a happy ending. They had sent her an invitation of course one with pink flowers and daisies on it, and Peyton had insisted she would come and be her bridesmaid, as if making Brooke wear a blue dress, carrying a basket full of flowers later to be thrown upon the newlyweds could erase the whole chapter of disappointments from their novel. She had declined politely, and used a fashion show as an alibi, yet Lucas had waited for her. While greeting people on the door, while checking out whether the catering was adequate and even while he was saying his vow out loud, he had waited for her to come.

There had been no sign of Brooke Davis, just an expensive bouquet of orchids and lilies lying next to others. Just the requirement of customs.

"Peyton is not very eager." Lucas told Haley about his wife's response to the envelope that was also present in another Scott household. "We talked about it this morning, and she flipped…again"

Haley peeked at him from the scrapbook she was preparing for James's 5th birthday, sighed worriedly and put down the scissors to imply the readiness for a friendly talk. Everything seemed fairly easy in Haley's life, she had married to her only love, given birth to a child whose manners were considerably mature and well-behaved compared to other children in his age, and had never experienced being inept, unable in the only thing she professionalized at.

"All those times and still nothing changed." Haley had responded, tired of remaining in between as none of the unknowns in this equation had attempted to solve the problem, leaving Lucas and Haley uncertain of what to do, which methods to take, even sometimes, whether to try to solve or not.

"I don't know Hales." Lucas continued. "Peyton is offended of her absence in our marriage, I guess. She was really desirous of Brooke's attendance."

"Do you think that's the only reason?" Haley questioned, pacing up and down in the kitchen, waiting for the tea to get brewed. Just a few minutes earlier, her life-train was moving as usual, she had kissed goodbye to James and warned Nathan to go talk to James's teacher who was more interested in Nathan Scott's professional basketball career rather than his son's baffling talent in drawing, and decided to prepare a scrapbook (something she had learned from Karen Roe) for the upcoming birthday of James. Then, the door had been knocked; Lucas Scott had entered her home with a plate of cheesecake and problems.

Haley continued as if there had been no interlude.

"Peyton and I have been chatting about this and that and she kinda…" Haley paused to find the right words, the decent ones to make up a proper sentence to reflect the problem clearly without affecting Lucas's feelings, which obviously, were in their most fragile phases. "She feels that…you are growing apart from her, especially lately."

Lucas knew that he had to react, refer it as a misunderstanding and defend himself; yet he was aware of the distance growing slowly between them, becoming more and more apparent in every lonely step they took- and his personality was not in the mood of pretending and lying. Instead, he remained silent, letting the silence talk for him, just like he let distance act whenever Peyton was near.

"I know it sounds childish, but…" Haley again stopped, wiping the sweat on her brow, probably arising from standing too close to the vapor coming out of the kettle. "Maybe, she's afraid of losing you again…and now that Brooke issue is on the agenda…puff…I don't know." She sat on the nearest chair, as if calling it quits and wanting to do nothing with the semi-definite unknown Lucas once created, go on with her own, problem-less life including tea-parties with other teachers from Tree Hill High, or attending cocktails with her basketball-star husband, leaving James to Peyton and when she's busy spilling on the canvas, to Deb.

Lucas, on the other hand, still preferred to remain silent, amazed at the fact that whenever Brooke was the issue, his literary-mind consisting of many intellectual words and trivia became inept, words lost their meaning and ceased to come out from his mouth. Peyton's concerns were usual, from the first day of the marriage; they all felt like Brooke's virtual presence had been with them, sometimes as a burden, sometimes as a rule. The love triangle they once had had never transformed into a line, connecting the two dots Peyton and Lucas; there had always been a third angle, waiting to be reunited. Lucas didn't know whether Peyton's conspiracy theories had risen or whether her intuitions grew up to be stronger than expected.

"Maybe she's right" He finally concluded. "Maybe we should just send her a gift."

Haley took a sip from her tea, wondering where the heck in time Lucas became such an indecisive personality- or maybe, it was always one from the beginning to the end, but circumstances, conditions had forced him to do otherwise. Who knew?

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Luke." She said, "I mean, you may not attend, but just sending her a simple gift? It's too inappropriate; after all, you three shared some history."

Yeah they did, and what a history that was.

"You know what I'm thinking?" Haley beamed suddenly; Lucas could see the imaginary bulb lighting just above her head. "Since you're always good with words- maybe you should write her a letter, a sincere one, congratulating her about the marriage and letting her know that she has friends in Tree Hill, no matter what. It's customs"

He had lost track of time, it wouldn't matter if it was late midnight or afternoon, and the effects were all the same. Microsoft word was staring at him blankly, challenging him, clearly implying that he weren't going to be able to write the letter Haley instructed him to. The black line on the blank page was flashing on and off and that seemed to be the only action going on in his life. Peyton was somewhere else, like the words in his mind.

He had tried to read some of his favourite novels to suck up some inspiration but neither the Ethan in the Winter of Our Discontent nor the Dagny in Atlas Shrugged were interested in helping him. After two cups of coffee, an episode of a Tv-series that he didn't know the name of, and a long walk through the Rivercourt, he had finally settled down in front of the monitor.

"Dear Brooke" His fingers typed, then stopped. How could he go on? Should he ask her about her new life, telling her catchy details in Tree Hill, or fuss about their growing apathy? Should he immediately jump into insincere congratulations and wishes of happiness, or bamboozle a little bit? The mouse trailed to the folder containing pictures from High School and opened the one named Brooke1(pic). God, it had been such a long time since he hadn't seen her. What had changed in her life? Was she still the cheery, careless girl; or did harshness teach her a lesson of cruelty and bitterness? How did she meet her future husband? Did she really love him? Did she love him more that she once loved Lucas? Could there be any chance…

He wiped off the thoughts from his mind and decided to log off from his computer and go on with his own writing. Pen and paper seemed more sincere and friendly than the laptop; having more probability on evoking the old-fashioned runaway muse.

"Dear Brooke" he wrote again on a piece of paper.

"I don't know how to start, words crumble in my mind, for the first time, I cannot plan a decent letter, so forgive me if this happens to come out lower than my usual literary standards. It has been so long since we stopped exchanging words, just like we ceased to unite our lives, the sentences are shadowed by the misery I felt by this distance."

He immediately ruffled the paper. What the hell was this? He was supposed to be congratulating her, catching up with her cheery mood- not supposed to whine and moan about the things that formed a past that Brooke tried to avoid and so far, accomplished unlike them, unlike him.

He decided to stick with the first sentence of his previous draft and tried to be more cheerful.

"I don't know how to start, words crumble in my mind, for the first time, I cannot plan a decent letter, so forgive me if this happens to come out lower than my usual literary standards. The vision of seeing Brooke, finally having her eternal commitment to the one she loves, one, I truly hope, would cherish and deserve her for the rest of his life, is making my brooding genes more joyful than usual, even words decided to celebrate this, not obeying to my orders."

That was nice, a little bit happier, and he hoped Brooke would get the metaphor behind "brooding genes". He continued.

"Still, I feel the need to inform you that, me and Peyton –he diligently avoided writing "us" instead of "me and Peyton" as if referring to two friends who had separate lives and just joined by an "and" rather than a couple- are not going to make it due to some bizarre obligations. Believe me, I really want to see you in that white wedding gown, swaying through the hall with your dimpled smile…"

No, he murmured and erased the last sentence- it was too much of a proposal, it felt like a vow rather than a friend's sincere feelings.

"Believe me, I really want to see you holding hands with your true lover, promising to love him for the rest of your life and be a part of your favorite memory, but there are some obligations required and we have no other choice. Still, you must know that…"

He stopped instantly, not exactly knowing what to say.

Then, all of a sudden, his mind lost control of his fingers and watched them write sentences his brain didn't prepare.

"In my dreams I kiss your cunt. Your sweet wet cunt. In my thoughts I make love to you all day long."

He stared at the sentence for a minute, then burst out laughing. It was funny how restricted thoughts of years could be formed into simple sentences that were never meant to be and going to be read. Laying the sheet near, he took another paper, this time, wrote all the insincere thoughts and bright clichés to congratulate Brooke and her husband, dearly apologizing for their absence and promising to try a much harder to mend their broken relationship.

Wondering Brooke's reaction while reading, he slowly put the paper in an envelope that resembled her invitation and writing the address clearly, he got out of the house. Luckily, the mailman was there emptying the box, so he smiled deeply, informing him there is another letter to be transferred.

His thoughts wandered around the draft, he knew that he had to get rid of it before Peyton caught a glimpse so he went to his studying room immediately, planning to burn the paper rather than throwing in the garbage- because it still carried a threat, lying dirty but still in the rubbish.

Then, when he arrived, the sudden realization caught him senseless, washed over his skin like cold water touching his hot thoughts.

The letter that included the proper writing, the decent sentences of a congratulation was winking at him from the table naughtily, telling that he had sent the wrong, very wrong, very very wrong letter to Brooke.

_In my dreams I kiss your cunt. Your sweet wet cunt. In my thoughts I make love to you all day long._

Shit.

**A/N:**** God, I loved this part of Atonement, and when I read it- it screamed "Brucas"- so here it is- a oneshot. I am planning to do a sequel to this (this time on Brooke's pov) if I get enough reviews.**

**So, type up everyone! Lol******


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